


The Scars We Carry

by min_T



Series: The Scars We Carry [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, Massage, Post-Season/Series 17, Sharing a Bed, This Is Some Soft Tropey Shit, but they deserve it, post season 17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 04:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20829173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/min_T/pseuds/min_T
Summary: Wash is in recovery, and Donut just wants to thank him.





	The Scars We Carry

**Author's Note:**

> I DID NOT THINK I WAS GOING TO COME OUT OF THIS SEASON SHIPPING WASH AND DONUT, AND YET HERE I AM, SUFFERING BECAUSE ONLY LIKE 2 OTHER PEOPLE ARE MAKING CONTENT, BUT WHATEVER. PLEASE ENJOY.

The thing is, Donut has no real inclination to be on his own. Over the years, he’s been more or less left on his own...a _lot._ The idea of being alone is just the creeping feeling of being forgotten and left behind all over again, even if it’s the other way around this time.  
  
No, he’s just polite. Too polite to tell these guys to their faces that he just doesn’t want to be with _them_ right now. For a while. Maybe longer. That he’s got enough of his own issues at the moment to get sucked into another one of their adventures. He needs to look out for himself for a bit, rather than looking out for the team. Or, you know, all of time itself and the universe, or whatever.  
  
He won’t be able to if he stays. Despite their apologies, Donut knows things probably won’t change much. For as codependent as they all seem to be, they’re still awfully self centered. Well...most of them.  
  
_Definitely not all of them,_ he thinks as he loiters around the entrance of Wash’s room. He doesn’t want to go anywhere without at least saying goodbye to Wash, but if the guy is up to it, there’s a lot more he would like to say. The prospects don’t look good though, seeing as Doc has been guarding the door like a hawk and won’t even let Carolina in to see him, much less anyone else.  
  
It’s gotten dark outside, and most everyone has cleared out. Grif finally talked Simmons into going for a pizza, Tucker ducked out not long after being denied seeing Wash a third time, and Kai slipped out behind him. Sarge is still in the building somewhere, scrounging for tools and parts under the claim of giving Lopez a tune up, and most likely scaring nurses.  
  
Only Carolina and Caboose are still waiting around, and Donut suspects Caboose just fell asleep standing up in his armor. Carolina herself looks worn out, head nodding off before jerking back up when she catches herself. Donut watches this process a few more times before her head finally stays down, shoulder propped against Caboose’s side.  
  
Donut looks at the clock; the hands are nearing midnight. He could always just come back tomorrow, he thinks, right as Doc bustles through the doorway.  
  
“Oh, Donut!” Doc exclaims. “You’re still here!”  
  
“Hey!” Donut greets him back. “I was just looking at the time, I figured I might want to head out soon.”  
  
Doc swivels his head around, observing the vacant room. “Honestly, I was keeping visitors out because I don’t think Wash could handle being overwhelmed by everybody right now; but seeing as you’re the only available at the moment, I could let you pop in and say goodbye before you go. He just woke up.”  
  
Donut bounces on his feet. “Really?” He asks, a little surprised and somehow a little anxious.  
  
Doc tilts his helmet slightly knowingly. “You’ve been waiting long enough, go on ahead.”  
  
Donut laughs a little. “Thanks, Doc. Don’t have to tell me twice to _go on a head__!_”  
  
Even knowing what he is stepping into, seeing Wash on the hospital bed is a little jarring. Wash’s eyes track him as he walks in, but he doesn’t say anything.   
  
Seeing him out of the helmet is kind of weird, especially being able to read all of his normally obscured facial expressions...It adds a vulnerability to him that doesn’t seem quite right. Donut lifts off his own helmet to even it out, shaking down his hair.  
  
“Hey,” He says, softly.  
  
Wash’s mouth moves like he’s trying to say something, but he doesn’t. His pupils move back and forth across Donut’s face, like he’s searching it for something. His throat works, and he finally makes a sound, a hoarse question: “What are you doing here?”  
  
Donut’s mouth twitches a little at that, fighting off a frown. “We’re friends, Wash, of course I’m going to be here.”   
  
Wash’s eyes glance around. “Then why isn’t everybody else here?”  
  
“Doc wasn’t letting anyone in to see you for a while, I’m the only one who stuck it out. I’m good at sticking it out.”  
  
“Why?” Wash asks again, breezing past Donut’s comment.  
  
Donut’s mouth twitches again, but he notices Wash’s eyes searching him more intently, like he’s trying hard to find something, and it’ll magically be on Donut’s face.  
  
“Wash, this may be a stupid question, but is something wrong?”  
  
Wash blinks, hesitation crossing his features. “I - I know what’s going on with me. Doc explained it, and I’ve got a grasp on it.”  
  
Donut nods, encouraging him on.  
  
“But I feel like….I remember something...Oh, fuck.” He throws his hands a little. “I don’t know if half of what’s in my head right now are my actual memories, or if I’m one more marble short than I should be, and I just created one hell of a story in my sleep.”  
  
Donut giggles a little. “Time travel can have that effect on people, even when their brains are fully functional.”  
  
“Time travel,” Wash repeats slowly, relief coloring his tone. “So that happened, that was all real?”  
  
“Depends on how you look at it!” Donut responds jovially. “Personally, I think since we undid all the paradoxes, none of that actually happened after all and I can move on with no additional trauma because the circumstances that would have created it no longer exist in time!”  
  
Wash blinks at him, rapidly, more than he needs to. “Okay, moving past that, because despite it being concerning, you clearly don’t want to talk about it,” He says, tone growing quisitive, “You really want none of that to have happened?”  
  
Donut sticks his lower lip out. “Well, no, the acknowledgement was nice. And having the respect and support of a friend besides Doc was really good, too. Oh! And the self confidence boost. I’ve always liked to think of myself as gifted in the area of _personal growth_, but this time I feel like I really have something to show off!”  
  
Wash smiles like he’s immensely proud, and for some reason that sends a pleasant flush to Donut’s cheeks.  
  
“Anyway,” Donut continues, hoping Wash won’t comment. “That’s partly why I waited around. I wanted to say thank you.”  
  
Wash’s eyebrows climb up. “No...problem?” He shrugs. “It’s what I’d do for any one of you.”  
  
Donut smiles, broad and appreciative. “See, that’s exactly why I want to thank you. None of us have anything that instills a lot of faith in anyone, but you believe in us anyway. I saw what your support did for Tucker, and how everyone else has changed so much. It was my turn and you didn’t let me down.”  
  
Now it’s Wash’s turn to look a bit uncomfortable, and he shifts in his position. “Honestly, Donut? I don’t always have unshakable faith in all of you. I’ve fully expected everyone to die, more than once. It’s just…” He pauses, collecting his thoughts, which causes a pinched look between his eyebrows. Donut patiently waits, not rushing him.  
  
“It’s just what I think a good leader should do, to bring out the full potential of anyone; never let the doubt show. But that being said,” He turns a little towards Donut, still bandaged and limited in movement, “I really didn’t doubt you at all. I don’t think I could have.”  
  
His smile is sincere, and it makes Donut feel even warmer than before. “Why? Why me?”  
  
Wash’s smile grows smaller, but doesn’t disappear. His eyes unfocus, like he’s looking more at something in his own mind than what’s in front of him. “You were me.”  
  
“Uhh…” Is all Donut can manage, confused. That prompts a laugh out of Wash, which lasts a little longer than is entirely comfortable.  
  
“I meant, back when I was on my team, I...I was the youngest guy who nobody listened to because they all thought I was an idiot, the total lowest on the totem pole. I know what that’s like. And it didn’t help me grow, become better. It turned me into the guy with something to prove, angry and too driven and...the guy who shot you.” He finishes, apologetically. “You deserved so much better than that.”  
  
Donut doesn’t know if he’s referring to how he’s been treated or how he was shot, but it doesn’t matter. He’s got tears welling in the corners of his eyes, and he finally sinks down into the bedside chair.  
  
“Well,” He says, entirely too chipper in attempt to hide that he’s about to cry, “At least getting shot didn’t make me look any worse! A bullet wound is no big deal when you’ve already been hit by a grenade!”  
  
He subconsciously reaches towards his scar, fingers skimming over it. He doesn’t take his helmet off an awful lot these days when he’s not performing some basic skin and hair care.  
  
Wash’s face does a funny little thing, something Donut doesn’t know how to translate. He’s really not used to seeing Wash’s face at all.   
  
“You don’t look bad, you know that, right?” Wash asks.  
  
“Of course not!” Donut laughs it off with forced self confidence. “It’s just not what most people want to be looking at.”  
  
Wash looks a little saddened by that. “I don’t mind it,” He all but whispers. Donut perks right up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear.  
  
“Aw, Agent Washington, you big softie! You really can’t say things like that or I really might kiss you!” He’s mostly joking, like he always has been when he’s said things like that; and he knows Wash knows it, but Wash...goes _pink_.  
  
“Yeah, well, you know I’m the last person who is going to judge anyone about the damage they carry around with them.” Wash gestures at his neck.  
  
Donut kindly changes the subject, not wanting Wash to be uncomfortable. He’s trying a lot harder to be conscious of that.  
  
“Does it still hurt?”  
  
Wash grimaces, rubbing at his shoulder area. “They numbed the actual bullet wound, but the surrounding muscles hurt like a bitch.”  
  
“Oh! Maybe I can help with that!” Donut offers. “You wouldn’t believe how popular I am for the things I can do with my fingers!” He flexes them in imitation of massaging, wincing a second later when he hears his words play back in his mind. Wash just chuckles.  
  
“Yeah, why not?” He throws a thumb over next to him and scoots himself over to one side of the bed before rolling on his side. “If you actually are that good I might just _let _you kiss me.”  
  
Donut laughs back at him, a nervous titter as he slides into the empty space on the bed. What was that? Was Wash joking with him, or was that flirting? _Flirting?_ Wait, no, this is Agent Washington. Right. Okay.  
  
Donut shakes his head and starts pulling off the torso pieces of his armor so he can get the arms and gloves off. He puts them in a pile and flexes his freed hands. “Ready?” He asks, and Wash just makes a noise to affirm.  
  
He’s careful, fingers skirting around the edges of the bandages, but deftly digging in where the muscles feel knotted and tight. He must be doing the trick, because Wash gets pretty vocal about it.  
  
_God._ Donut almost asks him to keep it down, but he has no idea how to phrase it so that doesn’t expose _why_, so he sits it out. He gently presses the pad of his thumb into a particularly stiff spot, and Wash lets out a deep groan, one that travels straight down to Donut’s toes with a pleasant tingle.  
  
Donut withdraws at that, completely unable to take any more. The armor can only hide so much!  
  
Wash rolls onto his back again, looking at Donut. Donut looks back.   
  
“Thanks,” Wash starts, and Donut responds instinctively with a smile as he starts picking up pieces of his armor. Wash meets it, and continues his thought, still watching him. “But you know, you don’t have to go.”  
  
Donut’s eyebrows shoot up. What exactly did that mean?  
  
“I mean...I would like it if you stayed a little longer.” Wash clarifies. “It’s better with someone here. I’m...still a little jumbled up in my head. But when you’re here it...seems a little clearer.”  
  
Oh. Donut hesitates. He would rather stay - Wash is good company, and he owes him quite a lot now - but on the other hand, he knows it’s only a matter of time before he spills something without thinking that makes Wash entirely uncomfortable, and if Wash goes back to barely looking at him, Donut doesn’t think he could handle it.  
  
He licks his upper lip, and looks at Wash’s face, his eyes jarringly open and communicative. How could he say no?  
  
“Do you have somewhere I can put the rest of my suit?” He asks in lieu of an answer, and Wash treats him to a broad, happy grin. It looks so nice on his face, Donut observes. Like it belongs there....he wishes he could see it more often. It’s nice in place of the tiredness of his voice that Donut usually associates with him instead.  
  
“In the closet over there,” Wash points out, and Donut ditches the rest of the armor there quickly. He makes his way back to the bed and nudges Wash’s feet.   
  
“If I’m staying, you’re sharing the bed. Stiff hospital chairs do not make for comfortable sleepovers.”  
  
Wash looks amused, but shifts his feet. Donut settles against the foot railing, legs pressing against Wash’s, and he feels a flash of want, the idea of getting closer and touching even more of Wash burning suddenly in his gut.  
  
Wash asks him something. Donut has to shake his head to clear it before he can process what he said, and Wash repeats it.  
  
“I said, have I ever told you about my old cat, Loki?”  
  
Wash is full of funny, interesting stories. Donut half wants to tell him that he reminds him of his grandfather, but he recognizes how weird that would be.   
  
“Wait,” Donut realizes with a flash. “You said you were the youngest on your team...how old exactly are you?”   
  
Wash’s expression cringes a little. “Don’t judge me, but I’ve lost track a little bit, what with everything that’s been going on in the last few years...but, uh, around thirty?”  
  
Donut’s eyes bug. “Thirty?!” He repeats, just on the edge of too loud.  
  
Wash winces. “Do I look that old?”  
  
“No!” Donut recovers from his surprise, in a hurry, throwing a hand out to emphasize. “No, I’m sorry, it’s just...You always seemed so...so much more experienced, that I imagined you would be a lot older than me, not...nearly the same age. That, and I assumed you dyed your hair to hide the grays. Now I guess I know it’s just vanity!”  
  
“Hey!” Wash barks back at him, leaning forward slightly. “I don’t dye it!”  
  
“So you have naturally bleached tips?” Donut teases.  
  
Wash looks decidedly grumpy as he resettles himself back against his pillows. “It was _one time,_ I just haven’t cut it since.”  
  
Donut lets himself chuckle a few seconds, but doesn’t mess with him any more. “Honestly, you really don’t look that old.” He reiterates, peering back at Wash..  
  
“The fact that you have to tell me twice makes it very reassuring,” Wash responds, dryly.  
  
Donut lets his eyes trace over Wash’s features. He’s got a nice shape to his face, with decently high cheekbones, smattered with freckles over a tanned complexion. He’s got scattered scars, the inevitable outcome of living a life like he has, but Donut thinks they make him look all the better. They tell a story.   
  
His hair really is blonde, but it’s a dark, dirty color towards the base of his head, bleached nearly white towards the too-long ends. He’s got deep blue eyes that a lot of people would be jealous of, and Donut tries not to stare too long directly into them. Underneath he’s got dark circles, probably the most unsightly thing about him, but even still, Donut doesn’t think he’d recognize him at all without them.  
  
“I think,” Donut says, taking his time to find the right phrasing. “That you look like a young man who has been through far more than he should have, and that you really just need some rest.”  
  
Wash’s eyebrows relax a little, releasing a slight tension Donut hadn’t noticed. “Well, that much is true.” Wash admits.  
  
Donut pulls himself around, rearranging so he can lay on his side and face Wash, instead of just his legs.   
  
“You’ve been taking care of all of us almost since right when you joined us. When’s the last time someone took care of you?”  
  
Donut is musing aloud, entirely genuine, but Wash’s eyes hood half way.  
  
“Are you offering?” He all but purrs back, and oh. _Oh._  
  
“I meant that in an emotional sense,” Donut squeaks back. He doesn’t want Wash to get the wrong idea though, so he lays a hand across Wash’s arm and pulls a little closer.  
  
“What do you want, Donut?” Wash asks, looking confused at Donut not playing along, while his movements conflict with his words.  
  
“Right now, I would very much like to kiss you.” Donut answers honestly, not a trace of a joke in his words this time.  
  
Wash’s eyes slip closed the rest of the way, and Donut takes that as permission. He’s careful, slow and gentle so as not to jostle Wash’s neck. He leaves a slight press of lips, almost innocent, before pulling away.  
  
“Um,” he starts, wordless because even that much was...really nice. Wash opens his eyes, raising one brow.   
  
“Is that all?” He asks, like a challenge, like he really wants _more,_ and Donut suddenly can’t breathe.  
  
His mind is a jumble of _This is Agent Washington, you’re kissing Agent Washington! And he’s not creeped out by you or treating you like you’re weird! He wants you! Oh, gosh, you want him back! Really badly!___  
__  
Belatedly he responds, “I don’t want to hurt you!”  
  
Wash frowns a little, but concedes. “It’s probably a bad idea right now.”  
  
Donut thinks, _I could kiss you more after you heal, _and _I want to be there when you do heal_, and he tries to lead up to that, but what he ends up blurting out instead is, “I decided to leave in the morning.”  
  
“Oh.” Wash’s face shutters off a bit, and he pulls himself slightly away.  
  
Donut screws his eyes shut, frustrated. “No, I didn’t mean that.”  
  
“You _didn’t _decide to leave?” Wash tries to clarify, suspicious.  
  
“Well, I did, but…” Donut sighs. “I need to go in order to take care of myself, but I meant what I said; that you should have someone to take care of you.”  
  
“I don’t get what you’re trying to communicate here,” Wash says, blankly. “If you’re trying to nicely shoot me down, you don’t have to-”  
  
“Wash.” Donut cuts him off. “We may not be incredibly close, but I like you. A lot. We went through quite a bit, and I feel a connection. What I’m trying to suggest is...I could take care of you?”  
  
Wash blinks.  
  
“But you’re leaving,” He states, and Donut huffs.  
  
“_Come with me,_” He specifies.  
  
Wash’s mouth forms a neat little _oh_ of understanding, which morphs into one of surprise.  
  
“Donut, you’re sweet, but like you said, we don’t actually know each other all that well, and I have _months_ of therapy ahead of me. And I’m not exactly...not exactly going to be easy to handle from here on out. I really can’t ask-”  
  
Donut shushes him, reaching for his hands. He brings them up between them, holding them until Wash curls his fingers back around Donut’s as well.  
  
“You’re going to need someone to help you through everything. I’m sure Carolina will be here, and everyone else for a while, but they’re all going to have their own lives, eventually. You’re going to have to look at your time past that. Time that I wouldn’t mind sharing.”  
  
He squeezes Wash’s hands, thoughtfully. “It’s not like I come without my own set of issues.” Donut releases one of Wash’s hands to reach up and trace around his scar, finger landing on his hearing aid, before coming back to join Wash’s again. “But it’s like _you _said, we’re similar. After what we’ve been through, we both deserve to be happy and cared for. I think this is a good opportunity for just that.”  
  
Wash looks bewildered, but there’s a spark of hope in his eyes. “It’s not going to be easy,” he rebuts, like Donut isn’t comprehending it.  
  
“I don’t mind,” Donut makes clear, tilting his neck so his forehead rests against Wash’s own.   
  
“Are you sure?” Wash breathes against him, and Donut fights off a little laughter in his response.  
  
“Look at all of us, Wash. We’re all not entirely...normal, much less ‘easy.’ My best friend has the remnants of an evil AI personality that randomly takes over his brain!”  
  
Wash gives him a huff of laughter back.  
  
“You’re a little late to join the crew, so what?”  
  
Wash is smiling now. It’s tentative, but his eyes are meeting Donut’s right back.  
  
“Okay,” He decides, leaning his head the rest of the way forward so that he meets Donut’s mouth in another kiss, a brief peck that’s both grateful, and hesitant to pull away again.   
  
Donut’s heart does a strange little flutter, and wow, he __really wishes he didn’t have to be concerned about Wash’s injury, he wants to kiss him properly, so very badly.  
  
But he’s got plenty of time to look forward to it in the future, now.

**Author's Note:**

> so I REALLY want this to actually turn into a larger series? and hopefully I'll get on it if anyone seems to like this! But yeah if you wanna, come check out my tumblr @luciferlesbian, and also ask for an invite to my rvb discord if you wanna see me yelling about washnut more.


End file.
